Recently, there’s been a light at the end of the tunnel, a little beacon of hope. And, for real, I don’t even think this time that it’s a three-ton Chevy Suburban bearing down on us.
We have whittled the pile of boxes from 3,459,212 to four. (If you don’t count the three in the office that are full of wires and cords and stuff. They are technically “opened,” even if they have and always will continue to live snugly nestled in those very same boxes.)
I have confidence that our roof will now withstand any Mother Nature attack short of an F5 tornado or a Category 5 hurricane, a visit from friends with children under age 5, or me finding a new Ludicrous song I feel a need to blast from the rooftops. (I think that last one would be a friendly overture to one of our neighbors, who feels a need to regularly blast conservative radio talk shows from his rooftop. I think he’ll like being exposed to a new form of entertainment, much like I do.)
The roof is solidly attached to the house now because our framers stayed up there from 7 a.m. until 4:30 p.m. last Saturday, installing new purlins and braces. They did this carefully and gently, using small tools like wrecking balls and cranes and dynamite.
I was worried about them up there all day in the attic, which was only a degree or two below spontaneous combustion level. I kept taking them ice water, but I realized at the end of the day that it would’ve been much more helpful had I quit doing those six loads of laundry. They had disconnected the dryer vent pipe to get the boards in. So while I worried about them surviving the heat, I was also simultaneously pouring steaming, wet dryer goo onto them.
They were really nice guys, and seemed to be OK when they left. Maybe the ice blankets I draped over them in my guilt helped a tad.
And guess what? All of our stuff is now in one state! Yes! North American Van Lines finally found a driver, and a truck that worked, and a map to Texas. It wasn’t our same nice driver from before, who I talked to recently. That’s when he told me he was being blamed for our bad move experience, which is infuriating. He’s about the only part of the whole thing that wasn’t insanely frustrating. He didn’t miss the estimate by 40 percent. He isn’t the one who couldn’t keep the trucks running or find enough driveres. He kept his crew working on a weekend to get us packed. And he delivered the vast majority of our stuff in decent shape. I really hope he doesn’t take the fall for the company being unable to get its act together.
And NAVL also has read the blog, too! How fun. I guess they found it through crawlers that search for “North American Van Lines,” like the ones we use to find scary blogs that mention “Children’s Medical Center.” Their social media dude contacted me, then put me in touch with a customer relations person. She was very nice, and while she was unable to get our “overflow” to us any sooner, she did arrange for a lovely, crisp check to arrive in the mail to cover our expenses due to the delays. That went a long way toward making me feel better about NAVL.
I wonder if I have to count that as income from my blog on my taxes?
There was no additional stipend to cover my Xanax prescription, though. Or any extra to compensate my friends and coworkers who’ve had to put up with Crazy Me throughout this joyful little experience. Hmmph. I have gotten some more blog readers, though, which is fun.
And D’s mom has found a house, too! Another piece of the puzzle falls into place, or will next week when we close. It’s also in Carrollton, north of us about four or five miles. This will be a good thing, since both she and I are wired so that we need our space. She likes the TV on all day; I sometimes don’t turn ours on for days. She, at 5-foot-9, has an inexplicable desire to move things higher in cabinets. I think she’s probably just never noticed that I’m 5-foot-zip and don’t even realize that we HAVE cabinets over the counters.
Not to mention that there are just a lot of legs in our house right now, with three people and three dogs. It’ll be great to not stumble over a big hairy beast every time I turn a corner. And it’ll be good to have the dogs out of the way, too.
Now we’ll just have to get her things moved to her house, out of the storage unit. If we’re lucky (OK, OK, I realize that we obviously aren’t), it will only be 108 degrees that day, and not 110. I hope no one knocks over a dryer pipe and tries to asphyxiate us with hot, soppy lint.
Chase isn’t used to having so many legs in his house, either. He’s such a low-key guy, and he hasn’t been able to sleep all day long since his cousins have been here. And boy, does he like to sleep all day. He’s half Australian shepherd and half sloth.
This weekend, he’s also had his cousin Ty here visiting from Nashville. They are just alike… except Ty is red where Chase is gold. And Ty is thick, solid muscle, where Chase is a waiflike wisp. And Ty eats anything that’s not nailed down, where Chase has to be cajoled into swallowing pieces of hand-cut, flame-seared filet mignon. And Ty is about as bright as a bowl of oatmeal, where Chase can use applied physics and advanced architecture theory to build an escape route out of any fence design known to man. Ty loves the pool, where Chase would be quite happy to never see a pool of water larger than his bowl.
Other than that, they’re just alike.
And they both love and miss each other. So it’s been a good week. Ty’s parents are visiting us while the boys play, too, so we’ve actually spend some time enjoying Dallas and beginning to feel like we actually live here, and aren’t just stopping over temporarily.
Tonight we’re off to dinner — Fireside Pies, maybe? Great pizza — and a Melissa Etheridge concert. I first heard ME when I lived in Dallas in my previous life, so this is kind of weirdlike. I remember getting off work at the Dallas Times Herald at 1:30 a.m., putting her first CD (the red one, the best one) in my car, rolling down the windows and rocketing off down 75S until all hours of the morning. Isn’t it funny how hearing a song will instantly transport you backwards to an exact place and time? I think Einstein should’ve factored music into his theory of relativity.
So, Dallas is finally beginning to feel a bit like home… Hope it just keeps on going. Next I think we’ll actually try to make a friend or two, see how that goes. Surely, in a city of more than 6 million, we can find one or two people that will hang out with us, even if we have to pay them a per diem. Maybe we can find some on craigslist, since we had such success there with our boxes!